


A View to a Thrill

by 70SecretKinks



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Elementary Music Teacher!Bucky, Eventual Smut, Exhibitionism, Investment Banker!Steve, M/M, Mutual Masturbation, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-17
Updated: 2017-03-15
Packaged: 2018-09-25 02:07:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9797792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/70SecretKinks/pseuds/70SecretKinks
Summary: Steve is going about the business of completing his weekly chores when he's suddenly drawn to an irresistible sight. He knows it's weird to stop and stare, to openly 'spy' on the gorgeous, unwitting man in the apartment building across from his own. But like a moth to a flame, Steve is simply unable to turn away from his very own View to a Thrill.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LightningStriking](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LightningStriking/gifts).



> Hello dear readers! Okay, so I know I should be completing the final chapter of Trained on You (I am working on it as I post this, I swear!) and that I practically promised not to write another thing until that was done, BUT I got this idea in my head and then was kindly 'encouraged' by the recipient of this gift, LightningStriking, to just go ahead and write it. So, here we go!
> 
> I'm trying something new for me - posting shorter chapters. I'm hoping that doing so will help me to post more quickly and more frequently. Though I don't intend for this to be a particularly long story, I really never know just how long the things I begin to write will ultimately end up being. Anyway, I'd love to hear what you think in the comments and really hope you enjoy. Thank you!!

It was a bitterly cold Sunday afternoon in February and Steve Rogers was doing what he did most Sunday afternoons…cleaning his apartment.  After breakfast he washed the dishes and straightened up the kitchen, changed the sheets on his bed and threw a load of clothes into the washing machine.  Then, armed with a can of furniture polish and a cleaning cloth in one hand while holding his phone to his ear with the other, the well-built, blond investment banker chatted away with his best friend and co-worker Sam as he dusted his living room furniture.

“So, what happened with that gorgeous redhead you were talking up at the bar last night?” Steve asked as he gathered the unruly stack of magazines that littered the top of his coffee table.  “Looked like the two of you were getting mighty comfortable when I left.”

“Man, you know I don’t kiss and tell.  But, since you asked so nicely…” Sam started, earning a chuckle from Steve.  “She’s not only beautiful, she’s smart.  In fact, she’s a teacher,” Sam bragged.

“Oh yeah?” Steve asked, sounding genuinely surprised.  “Bet she keeps her kids in line without having to say a word.”

“You mean because she renders them speechless with her beauty?” Sam teased.

“No,” Steve answered.  “I mean the way she looked at the pretty bartender you always flirt with when the poor girl came over to take your drink orders.  If looks could kill.”  Steve cradled the phone between his ear and his shoulder as he sprayed the surface of the coffee table with one hand and wiped it off clean with the cloth in the other.  “So, you get her name?”

“What?” Sam scoffed.  “Dude, I’m offended.  Of course I got her name.  Number too.  Unlike you, I’ve got game.”

Steve rolled his eyes and snorted.  “I try,” he said with a shrug as he artfully rearranged his magazine collection on the now shiny, dust-free table.  As he got up to return the polish to his cleaning supplies closet, he looked out of his living window to admire the shower of big, fat snowflakes that had slowly started to fall in the city, like crystalline cotton balls floating in the sky.  It was beautiful.

Then there was a sudden movement in the distance that immediately caught Steve’s eye.  His gaze landed on the building across from his, more specifically on the guy who apparently lived in the apartment unit.  Though he had his back turned to the window, Steve could see that dude was around six foot tall, had an athletic build, and what appeared to be near-shoulder length, dark brown hair, though it was hard to really tell the length with the way the guy had pulled it back into a messy bun on the back of his head.  He was wearing a nearly-transparent white tank undershirt and a pair of threadbare grey sweatpants that rode precariously low on his narrow hips; his tight, round ass on glorious display.

The brunet stranger alone probably wouldn’t have caught Steve’s attention if he’d just been sitting on his couch.  No, what caught Steve’s eye was what the stranger was doing.  He was vacuuming his floor.  Not that that was anything overly exciting either.  It was the _way_ he was pushing the sweeper, swiveling his hips and bouncing his body to the beat of whatever song was pumping through the bright blue, cat ear-shaped headphones he wore on his head.  Must’ve been one heck of a good song.  He was really rocking out, moving his body way more than he was cleaning his floor.  Steve couldn’t help the amused chuckle that escaped his mouth as he moved unconsciously closer to his own window to get a better view.

“What’s so funny?” Sam asked.

“Nothin’” Steve mused, his eyes fixed on the domestic dancer.  He was sure Sam could hear the smile in his voice.

“Wanna try that again, Rogers?” Sam prodded.

The guy dipped his Dyson and started playing air guitar with exaggerated, Pete Townsend-worthy windmills across the see-through canister.  _Who in the hell has that much fun cleaning???_ Steve thought as he chuckled again.

“There’s some guy in the apartment building across from mine who’s dancing like a fool while vacuuming his floors.  It’s pretty damn funny,” Steve replied.

“You mean he’s dancing like nobody’s watching?” Sam, the evil fun-killer asked.

“It’s not…I’m not…” Steve stuttered.

It was Sam’s turn to laugh.  “Relax man, I’m just pulling your chain.  What’s he look like?”

“Like sex on legs,” Steve blurted, smacking himself on the forehead the second after the words left his mouth.

“Is that right?” Sam asked, his tone turning wicked.  “Sounds like one hell of a show.  So what’s Mr. Sex-on-Legs doing now?”

Steve glanced over again, now feeling slightly guilty thanks to his asshole friend.  He was stunned to see the unbridled brunet rolling his hips in seductive waves as he held onto the handle like a makeshift stripper pole with one hand while he tangled the other into his own hair, undoing the loose bun to let his wavy locks free.  Steve’s mouth went dry.  “He’s uh,” Steve started before he cleared his throat.  “He’s…”

Just then, the cavorting cleaner turned around, giving Steve his first real look at the guy’s face.  Steve actually gasped quietly at the sight.  The dude was absolutely gorgeous.  He had a strong, square stubble-covered jaw, accentuated by a sexy cleft in his chin and plush, pink, Cupid’s-bow lips that practically demanded to be kissed.  Despite Steve’s excellent eyesight, even he wouldn’t be able to make out the color of the guy’s eyes from this distance, even if…

“He’s looking right at me!” Steve yelped when the brunet met his gaze, clearly eyeing his unsolicited audience.  “Fuck.”

Sam, the unhelpful jackass, burst out laughing in Steve’s ear.

Steve just stood there frozen in place, like a deer caught in the headlights apparently unable to move.  He blinked dumbly, blue eyes wide, mouth agape and face burning bright with the flush of his obvious embarrassment.  The guy stopped dancing and stood up straight.  He blinked a few times as he tilted his head to one side and took in the ridiculous way Steve was just standing there, like a goddamn department store mannequin modeling active wear.  Then much to Steve’s surprise, the guy suddenly burst out laughing.  Steve kinda wished he could hear it.  The dude was really lost in a fit, doubled over as he held onto his vacuum for support.  Steve, still frozen in his tracks, was reduced to hyperventilating in Sam’s ear.

“Steve?” Sam asked after he’d managed to gather his wits.  “You okay?”

Steve couldn’t answer as he watched the brunet gather himself a bit, wiping the tears of laughter from the corners of his eyes before standing tall once again.  He surprised Steve again by aiming the most dazzling smile Steve had ever seen in his life right at him.  It was like being hit with a ray of sunshine on a bright summer’s day, warming Steve through to the core.  Then just as suddenly as the guy had turned to face Steve, he worried his bottom lip coyly between his teeth, looked up at Steve through the fans of his lashes and gave him a friendly, little wave.  A moment later he turned on his heel and returned to his task, pushing his sweeper over the floor and swaying his hips like he’d never been caught out.

“Dude,” Sam said pulling Steve back to his senses.  “What’s happening?  Is he flipping you off?  Calling the cops?  Should I give Matt a call over in Legal?”

Steve shook his head and took a step back away from his window.  “No...um, thanks.  He just… laughed,” he answered not even trying to hide his own surprise.  “Then he smiled and waved at me and went right back to vacuu-dancing.”

“Huh,” Sam said.  “Did you wave back?”

The ensuing silence from Steve’s end of the line was answer enough for his savvy friend.  Sam sighed.  “What’d I say before man?  No.  Game.  So anyway, the redhead…her name's Natasha and she is…”

Steve tried to pay attention to what his friend was saying, he really did.  But his mind and body were still reeling with adrenaline from his ‘encounter’ with the gorgeous guy across the way.  As he turned to walk back towards his kitchen, Steve would swear he could feel the other man’s gaze on his retreating back.  But when he dared to take a peek over his own shoulder, the brunet was whirling around, head back and eyes closed as he danced to the beat of his own drum—literally.  He tried to ignore the way the beat of his heart had picked up just now at the mere thought of what he’d discovered on this otherwise mundane Sunday morning—an insanely sexy, incredibly handsome, and apparently fun-loving guy who lived one building away.  At the prospect of seeing him again sometime soon through their distanced panes of glass.  At how eager he was to ‘spy’ on his neighbor.  To have that ray of human sunshine set his nerves on fire.

“Steve, are you even listening to me dude?” Sam asked, more amused than annoyed.

“Um yeah,” Steve answered as he tried to focus on their conversation.  “Natasha.  She sounds really cool,” he supplied from the bits of Sam’s side of the conversation that he’d actually managed to catch.

“Lucky guess, but you’re right, she is,” Sam answered.  “Well, I gotta run.  Don’t spend all day staring at Mr. Sex-on-Legs,” Sam teased.  “It’s not healthy.”

Steve chuckled as he found himself taking one last glance out of his window.  His heart sank as he looked into the lonely room that was now devoid of its dancing occupant.  “You’re an ass,” Steve said, concealing any trace of disappointment.  “Maybe I should warn this Natasha to keep her distance,” he joked.

“Says the Peeping Tom,” Sam shot back.

“Oh Christ,” Steve chuckled.  “Here we go.  Didn’t you just say you had somewhere to be?”

With that, the two friends said their goodbyes and made tentative plans to have lunch together at work the following day.  Steve sank down on his couch and turned on his TV.  He flipped absently through the channels.  So many choices, but none of them catching his attention.  He turned it off again and looked out the window instead, once again mesmerized by the falling snow.  Yeah, he told himself.  That’s why he was staring out of his window again.  To see the beauty beyond.  “I’m going to Hell,” he muttered to himself.  “Or jail.”  He sighed as he rested his head back on the top cushion of the couch and closed his eyes.  The image of the dancing man’s smiling lips and swaying hips burned behind his eyelids.  Jail first, he thought.  Then Hell.  Yup.  Probably in that order.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky tells Natasha all about his exciting encounter with the handsome 'looker' in the building across from his.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shorter chapters, faster posting time. Seems to be working out okay so far. Enjoy!

Bucky Barnes strolled casually down the hall of PS39 in his khaki corduroy pants and burgundy cashmere sweater on his way to the teacher’s lounge, hugging the wall to let the stream of energetic 2nd graders file past on their way to the gymnasium.  All of the kids loved gym class with Mr. Barton.  It was like spending 30 minutes with a kid like them that just looked a little bigger and a lot older than the rest of them.

“Good morning, Mr. Barnes,” a few of the students called out before being effectively shushed by their homeroom teacher, Mrs. Strinch.  A middle-aged woman who looked worn beyond her years.  Bucky imagined that her premature aging was primarily caused by the deep frown lines that framed her nearly permanently pursed lips like a set of parentheses etched in her skin.  He supposed spending the better part of the past decade shushing class after class of unruly 8 year old students could have that effect.  Bucky would likely never know.  As the music teacher in the K-5 building, he was adored by the kids and rarely had trouble containing his classes.  They could hardly wait to enter the music room, where colorful cutout music notes hung happily from the ceiling tiles on fishing line strings.

Bucky chuckled as he opened the door to the teacher’s lounge, amused by the enthusiastic cheer the 2nd grade class gave in response to the question Bucky heard Mr. Barton pose mere moments after the kids had stepped inside the gym.  “Who wants to play dodgeball?!?”

“Dodgeball,” Bucky muttered.  “No wonder they like Clint’s class best.”

“Awww.  Don’t be jealous.  You’re definitely the second favorite around here,” his best friend and 5th grade homeroom teacher, Natasha said.  “It’s annoying really.  The homeroom teachers do all of the hard stuff while you and Clint get all of the glory.  Teaching classes that encourage the kids to express themselves freely and make ungodly amounts of noise in the process.”

“And you’re calling _me_ jealous?” Bucky asked with a smirk as he made his way towards the antiquated coffee maker.  “So, what’d you do over the weekend?” he asked as he grimaced at the smell of burnt coffee that wafted out of the nearly empty pot.  He walked to the sink to dump out the sludge that had started to cook in the bottom of the carafe, rinsing it out to brew a fresh pot.

“Nothing too exciting,” Natasha replied as she scrolled idly on her phone.  “I was too tired and it was too cold to do anything Friday night.  Saturday, Maria and I went out to a bar in your neck of the woods.”

“What were you doin’ in a bar in Brooklyn?” Bucky asked, eyebrows raised in surprise as he waited for a cup of fresh brew.

“Maria is crushing on a guy she met that lives in the area.  He invited her to meet him there and I tagged along.”

“Why didn’t you call me?” Bucky asked finally pouring himself a cup of coffee before sitting down with her at the table.  “I would’ve come over to meet you for one or two.”

“Bucky,” Natasha said with a hint of exasperation.  “You’re a great guy and you know I love you to death but it doesn’t exactly help a girl’s chances to meet a guy when you already have an unfairly attractive and intimidating man sitting next to you.  Might as well wear a “Keep Away” sign around my neck.”

“First off, I’m not ‘intimidating’.  Secondly, you do realize that I’m on the ‘closer-to-being-gay’ side of bisexual at this point in my life, right?” he teased.

Natasha chuckled in response, “Yeah, I noticed.  But since you don’t wear a sign around _your_ neck stating as much, you might as well be ‘dating kryptonite’.  Hell, even Clint admitted under the influence of copious amounts of alcohol that he’d considered taking a roll in the hay with you and he’s straighter than a goddamn arrow!”

Bucky choked on his next gulp of coffee while Natasha just shrugged and added, “And, you should know that you most certainly do have a resting bitch face when you don’t like someone or something.  It’s definitely daunting.”

“Huh,” he said, contemplating her words.

“When’s the last time you went out with a woman anyway?” Natasha asked.

“Junior year in college, I think,” he answered.  “Though it was more of drunken frat party hook-up than an actual date.  So yeah, it’s been… a while.”

“Hmmm,” Natasha said as she studied him.  “Anyway…it was a nice place and we had a good time.  A little too good honestly.  I spent most of yesterday morning regretting the last two drinks I let Sam buy for me.”

“Sam?” Bucky asked.

Natasha smiled and leaned back in her chair.  “Mmmmhmmm.  I still can’t believe I actually met a nice, attractive, seemingly normal guy at a bar.  Flirty without being obnoxious, smart without being a know-it-all, and gorgeous without being conceited.”

“Are you sure you weren’t completely wasted?” Bucky asked.  “Maybe you just imagined this Sam in a drunken stupor.  Sounds too good to be true.”

“Nope.  He’s real alright.”  Natasha opened the contacts folder on her phone and pulled up the evidence of Sam’s supposed existence.  “See… he put his number in my phone and everything.”  Bucky took the phone and chuckled as his eyes scanned the screen.

“Sam ‘There’s Always Room for Jell-O’ Wilson?”

Natasha covered her face with her hands and mumbled into her palms, “Apparently I was in the mood for Jell-O shots.”

The contact photo attached to the record was a little blurred, but Bucky could still see the guy’s appeal.  Big, beautiful, gap-toothed grin surrounded by gorgeous smooth, chocolate brown skin.  The silver, tailored button down shirt he wore not only looked expensive but was fitted to his body in a way that flaunted his obviously athletic build.

“You gonna see him again?” Bucky asked handing her phone back.

“Hopefully,” Natasha replied.  “So what about you?  What’d you get up to this weekend?”

It was Bucky’s turn to stretch.  “Eh… the usual Friday, babysat the kids while Becks and Brian went to the movies.  Saturday I had afternoon practice with the ballet symphony orchestra, then Clint came over for pizza, beer and a Mario Kart duel.  I totally kicked his ass.  Sunday I cleaned up my place and just chilled out.”

The two friends sat and sipped their coffee in silence for a moment, knowing that their time in the lounge was quickly running out.

“Oh!” Bucky exclaimed out of the blue.  “I almost forgot to tell you about the best part of my weekend!”

Natasha perked up and leaned in closer, “What?” she asked impatiently.

“So, you know how sometimes when I’m cleaning with my headphones on, I get a little lost in the music?” he asked.

“You mean like you do every time I’ve seen you clean your apartment?  No wonder it takes you all day to tidy up that tiny place.”  Bucky scoffed and shot an offended look her way but Natasha quickly waved it off.  “What?  It’s New York.  Everyone here lives in a shoebox.”

“Not the guy in the building across from mine.  The _insanely_ hot, blond Adonis of a man who I caught standing in front of his fucking floor-to-ceiling window, watching me vacuum my floors.”

“Gross,” Natasha said, crinkling her nose in disdain.

“I think you mean _great_ ,” Bucky countered.  “Picture this…I’m doing my thing like the idiot that I am only to turn around to see this gorgeous guy openly gawking at me.  Shit…I couldn’t decide if I wanted to run away, cry or full on flash ‘im.”

Natasha couldn’t help but giggle at the ridiculousness that is Bucky Barnes.  “So what’d you end up doing?”

“What I always do when I’m nervous.  I laughed.  Hysterically.  I mean, if you coulda seen the look on the dude’s face… fuckin’ priceless!” Bucky starts cracking up again just thinking on it.  “He’s standing there like a goddamn statue—I bet he’d look like one of those super ripped Roman ones cut out of marble or somethin’ if he was naked, ya know?  Anyway, he’s got his phone up to his ear and he’s gapin’ like a fish, and he looked so embarrassed I thought he was gonna piss himself.  I couldn’t help but to laugh.”

Natasha now has tears in her eyes as she laughs along with him, envisioning the entire scenario.  When she collects herself enough to talk she asks, “What happened next?”

Bucky gets up to grab some tissues for them both and takes a glance at the clock.  His first class of the day starts in five minutes.  “I smiled and waved and went back to cleaning.”  Bucky topped off his coffee and snapped the lid back on his travel mug.

“And what’d he do?” Natasha asked, now completely engrossed by his story.

“He showed me heaven on Earth,” Bucky replied, his voice lilted in a dreamy sigh.  Natasha lifted one quizzical eyebrow and waited for him to go on.  “He turned around and walked away.”  At the unimpressed look that Natasha had leveled at him, Bucky simply smiled.  “I’m pretty sure I heard angels singing when I got a look at dat ass.  Even from a distance Nat, I’m telling ya, it was _glorious_.”  Bucky whistled in appreciation and tipped his mug in a toast.

Natasha rolled her eyes as she stood to join Bucky to walk with him on the way to her own classroom.  “You know,” she said as they strolled down the empty hall, “you might want to close your blinds from now on.  That’s what they’re there for.”

“What?” Bucky scoffed, “And miss an opportunity to see D-A-T-A-S-S again?” he spelled as they walked past the kindergarten classrooms.  “I don’t think so.”

Natasha sighed as she stopped in the doorway to her room, “Guess I’d better start stashing some cash to bail your A-S-S out of jail when he eventually calls the cops on you for unlawful surveillance.”

Bucky chuckled and tipped his mug to her once more as he kept walking towards him room.  “I knew I was friends with you for a reason.  Have a good day, Ms. Romanoff!”

“You as well, Mr. Barnes,” she called after him.  “See you in a bit when I bring my kiddos down for music class.”

Bucky gave one final salute before turning down the hall towards the music room.  If he hummed the tune he’d been dancing to at the time he turned to see ‘Dat Ass’ watching, well that was Bucky’s little secret.  As was his plan to _really_ put on a show for the gorgeous, blond voyeur in the building across from his the next time he decided to brave a look in Bucky’s direction.  If there was a next time.  Bucky really hoped there would be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up, Steve's POV and his inner struggle to resist the overwhelming temptation to take a peek out of his window. 
> 
> Always love hearing from you so please leave a comment if you're so inclined. Thank you!!!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Bucky's plan works. Really well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this escalated quickly but I couldn't really help myself. Hope you enjoy. Have a great weekend!!

Steve unlocked the front door to his apartment with a sigh of relief.  It was Thursday night and he’d had one hell of a week that had just culminated in what seemed like one the longest business dinners of his entire life.  Despite the fact it’d been held at on one of Manhattan’s most upscale eateries, Steve would’ve given anything to have been home on his couch instead, eating a takeout turkey club sandwich with a slice of Brooklyn’s best apple pie from his favorite diner down the block from his building.

The food at the meeting had been rich and decadent and the bottles of vintage wine were positively divine, but the company was formal and expectant—a large group of high profile clients that required Steve to stay on his toes; impressing his companions with his naturally affable and engaging personality while modestly demonstrating the depth of his professional knowledge and experience.  The whole thing had honestly made the blond feel a bit like a performing monkey—enticing his audience into throwing him a couple crumbs in return for a few practiced tricks.  But instead of crumbs, his clients were more inclined to entrust Steve with millions of dollars to intelligently invest on their behalf.

So, he was understandably exhausted and just a little left of tipsy as he kicked off his shoes and hung up his wool winter coat.  He dropped his keys in a bowl on the kitchen counter, grabbed a bottle of water from his fridge, and took a few cool sips as he rifled through the stack of mail he’d picked up in the mailroom on the way up to his unit.  As he mindlessly flipped through the pages of the latest issue of Men’s Health magazine, Steve stole a glance or two out of his massive front window.

It’d been four days since he’d been caught spying on Mr. Sex-on-Legs, dirty dancing with his Dyson.  And every night since Steve had resisted the incessant urge to sneak another peek into the apartment across the way.  Sam’s relentless teasing throughout the week had steeled Steve’s resolve those first couple of days.  As did the automated blinds that he dutifully lowered each night.  He told himself that he did it to block out the bright lights of the city outside and that it didn’t have a thing to do with deliberately blocking his view.  But he knew it was lie.  Without the blinds, he wouldn’t have been able to refrain from taking a gander and he really didn’t want to be _that_ guy.  The low-life creeper that got his rocks off by staring unabashedly at an unsuspecting stranger.  So he put up a barrier and kept his distance.  But now as he stood there swaying tiredly on his feet in his finest bespoke suit, his determination began to falter as his desire to get one tiny glimpse outweighed the twinge of guilt he felt about taking it.

“Fuck it,” he mumbled to himself with a sigh.  “He’s probably not even there.”

Steve took another long draw of his drink, slipped out of his suit coat and loosened his necktie.  He rolled his neck and tried to relax his shoulders as he slowly made his way over to stand in front of his window.  Steve’s heart began to race as his eyes scanned the building across from his and saw soft lights glowing in the unit he’d been looking for.

“Holy shit,” Steve whispered when he spotted the object of his obsession a moment later.  There he was, in the same spot on the floor where Steve had first laid eyes on him.  Only this time, he was stretched out on a yoga mat, extending his nearly naked body in a way that made Steve’s mouth water.  He was shirtless and wearing the tiniest pair of yoga shorts that Steve had ever seen; his smooth, lean, muscular body on full display and even better than Steve had imagined.  Once again, he had his hair pulled back in small, messy bun secured at the nape of his neck.  Steve could feel his cock quickly start to fatten up as watched the sexy brunet arch and flow between poses, exhibiting an impressive range of flexibility that gave Steve all kinds of ideas about how he would leverage that litheness to their mutual advantage between the sheets.  The dude didn’t appear to notice that he once again had an audience as he rolled into a downward dog, his beautiful backside facing the window; long, powerful legs seeming to stretch on for miles.  Steve ran his hands through his hair and scrubbed them down over his face.

“What am I _doing_?” he groaned into his palms.  He was about to turn away and turn in for the night, his guilt suddenly getting the better of him, when he flicked his eyes over to steal one last glance.  He nearly tripped over his feet and did a header into the glass at what he saw.  The guy was still bent over with his ass to the window, but he was no longer doing yoga.  His legs were splayed in a wide-V stance and his hands were cupping his own ass, spreading the rounded cheeks apart and massaging them sensually.  His chest was parallel to the ground and he was looking back over his shoulder.  Looking Steve right in the eye with a wicked smirk playing on his lips, letting Steve know that not only was he fully aware of his voyeur’s presence, but that he was apparently pleased to see him there and wanted to put on show.

Steve swallowed loudly as his little, haloed, self-conscience angel screamed in his ear, _“This is wrong, Steve! Turn away!”_   But between the stressful night he'd had, the last bourbon on the rocks he’d drunk in a toast to his clients, and the insistent desire swirling low in his belly, the lil’ devil on his opposite shoulder nudged him to follow his baser instincts and ultimately won out without much of a fight.  Steve stepped closer to the glass, propping himself against it with one big hand, while he reached down with the other to massage his thick erection through the soft material of his grey suit pants.  He looked back across the way through heavy eyelids as he groped himself roughly, waiting with baited breath to see how the sexy brunet would react.

He could see the other man’s eyes widen momentarily in surprise before being nearly blinded by that dazzling smile again.  He could tell the dude was giggling a little as shook his ass invitingly, spanking himself a couple of times like the fucking irresistible tease that he was before dropping gracefully onto his back, lying flat on the mat with his legs spread wide.  Steve gave his shaft a hard squeeze and moaned at the sight of the brunet’s own very obvious arousal.  Christ on a cracker…it looked perfect just like the rest of the guy; big and hard and fit to burst out of the tiny, soft piece of stretchy fabric it was cruelly confined within.

“You really are sex on legs aren’t you?” Steve said aloud as he waited to see what would happen next in this risky game of _‘Show me yours and I’ll show you mine’_ that they were now playing.  The guy tilted his head to the side, more strands of his dark hair falling sexily in his face as he gazed at Steve heatedly, eyes flicking between Steve’s face and the hand that was gliding over the pointed tent in his trousers.  He bit his bottom lip and mimicked Steve’s actions, arching his back as he pawed at his own cock through the frankly indecent yoga shorts with one hand and reaching up to pinch and play with his exposed, pert nipples with the other.  Steve choked on the saliva that had pooled in his mouth at the sight, wishing he could be pinching those perfect, peaked buds himself; lave over them with the tip of his tongue and nip at them with his teeth.

“Shit,” Steve whispered as he felt the scrape of his boxer briefs against the swollen head of his cock, precum soaking into the cotton and becoming uncomfortable.  He wanted to touch himself so badly in that moment.  To stroke himself and find release while privy to this incredible peep show.  He pushed off of the window and reached down to unfasten his thick leather belt, when that nagging little angel nabbed his ear again.  Maybe this wasn’t a line he should really cross.

The guy must’ve been able to read the flash of uncertainty and guilt that appeared on Steve’s face because when he met his gaze again—hands frozen on the buckle of his belt—he got a soft, encouraging smile and a pointed nod that Steve opted to interpret as a sign of encouragement to continue.  Steve couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt this entirely turned on.  Like he might burst into flames from the raw desire and pure want coursing through his veins.  With a nod back to acknowledge his provocateur, he pulled the belt slowly from the loops on his pants then dropped it unceremoniously to the floor.  Putting on a bit of a show of his own, Steve locked his gaze with the other man’s and barely blinked as he unhurriedly undid his pants and let the luxurious fabric slide down his muscular thighs, falling to pool around his ankles.  The brunet actually clapped his approval from his prone position on the floor.

“Smartass,” Steve muttered with a grin that turned into a full-on laugh once caught sight of his reflection in the window – blond hair hopelessly mussed by his own hands, navy blue dress socks hugging his calves at uneven heights, crisp, white button down hanging over the tops of his thighs like Tom Cruise in _Risky Business_ , and his necktie hanging loosely askew.  He already looked like a fucking mess and they’d barely even done anything.  When he looked back at Mr. Sex-on-Legs he was smiling broadly, clearly enjoying the view.  He released his nipple to put his hand in the air, swirling his pointer finger in a circle.

“You want me to turn around?” Steve asked dumbly.

The brunet repeated the motion until Steve spun around in a full circle.  The other man shook his head ‘no’ and tried again.  This time he swirled his finger in the air and then pointed to his own ass before pointing back at Steve.

“Ah,” Steve said now understanding.  “A smartass _and_ bossy too, huh?” he chuckled but complied, turning around to face his back to the glass.

He lifted the back of his shirt to give the other man a look at his ass, snugly encased in his navy blue boxer briefs.  When he looked back over his shoulder, the guy gave his groin a good squeeze with one hand while he took the other, fingertips pinched together and pressed to his lips and gave them an exaggerated kiss before pulling them away in a flourish.  It reminded Steve of a cartoon chef saluting a culinary masterpiece.  Emboldened by the guy’s reaction, Steve threw caution to the wind.

“You like that?” he asked the empty room.  “Then let’s see how you like _this_ ,” he smirked before yanking his shorts down and full on mooning the other man.

He couldn’t stop the blush that flooded both sets of his cheeks or the zing of absolute power that raced down his spine in that moment.  Almost as quickly as he’d pulled his boxer briefs down, he yanked them back up and turned back around, eyes fixed on the floor as he worried his bottom lip between his teeth to try and stop the smile that was fighting to break through.  It was a nervous tick that went hand-in-hand with his usually reserved personality.  When he gathered the nerve to look back across the way, he barked out an incredulous laugh, stunned by the sight of the gorgeous brunet now kneeling on his mat as he raised and lowered his arms and upper body in a deferential ‘I’m not worthy’ bow to Steve.  He stopped a second later and just stood on his knees for a moment, aiming that sunbeam smile at Steve.

God, this guy was something else.  Flirty and gorgeous and silly and fun.  And sexy.  So fucking sexy.  With that long, lithe, bendy body, that square-jawed, model-worthy face, and that hair… that goddamned fucking hair.  Steve thought he might be obsessed with it.  He’d already spent way more time than he was willing to admit fantasizing about it—running his fingers through it, tugging roughly on the roots, burying his nose in it to breathe in the scent of the guy’s shampoo.  Yeah, he was definitely obsessed.

With that in mind, Steve decided to issue an ‘order’ of his own.  He motioned for the brunet to let his hair down and hummed his approval as he watched him immediately obey.  The guy pulled the hair band off and tossed it away before running his fingers through his thick, nearly shoulder-length hair.  He smirked at Steve before he closed his eyes and tipped his face up towards the ceiling with his lips parted slightly in what the banker was sure was a sigh of relieved pleasure.  He scratched his fingertips over his scalp before dropping his hands down to explore his own body, taking a sinfully slow path from his neck to pecs, stopping again to pinch and pull on his hardened nipples.

Steve took an instinctive step forward and braced himself against the window once more, as though doing so would actually get him closer to the man he so desired in the other building.  Clearly getting lost in his own pleasure, the beautiful brunet’s chest began to rise and fall faster as his hands traveled lower down his body, traversing the visible ridges of his defined abdominal muscles before descending beneath the waistband of his shorts.

“Fuck yes,” Steve groaned as he stepped closer still to the glass.  “That’s it, gorgeous.  Touch yourself for me.”

As if the guy could actually hear him, he tilted his head back up to look Steve in the eyes, clearly taking himself in hand within the tight space of his shorts and began to stroke himself steadily under the supple fabric.  Steve couldn’t help but follow suit, reaching a hand beneath his starched shirt tails to slip it inside his own shorts.  He closed his eyes and hissed aloud at how good it felt to finally circle his fingers around his aching length and get the friction and pressure he so desperately needed.  He forced himself to open his eyes again and soak up the absolutely sinful view of the gorgeous brunet pleasuring himself.  The guy was once again laying down on his back with his head tilted to the side to stare at Steve and his hand moving in long, smooth strokes inside of his shorts.  The faces the other man made as he pleasured himself were so goddamn sexy, Steve wished he could be there in the room with him; claiming those parted lips and swallowing up the breathy moans and labored gasps the brunet was surely making.

Steve closed his eyes again, losing himself in the fantasy.  Pretending what it might feel like to have Mr. Sex-on-Legs stroking his rock hard shaft and rubbing his thumb over Steve’s leaking cockhead.  To have the beautiful stranger take him to the brink of heaven with his hand, his mouth, his ass.  _Shit._   The thought alone made Steve’s pulse race, the familiar heat and pressure of his pending orgasm coiling low in his groin.

Steve moaned again as he forced his eyes once more and not a moment too soon.  The brunet stared at Steve with half-lidded eyes as he arched his back and his body went stiff, his top teeth dug into his bottom lip hard, turning the soft, pink flesh white.  He gave himself a few more good pulls and appeared to shout as he came.  A big, wet stain quickly spread as he soaked the thin fabric of his tiny shorts with each waning spurt of his release.

“Of fuck,” Steve grunted as he was suddenly overcome with his own orgasm, his cock pulsing hotly in his hand as the stars burst behind his eyelids.  He too painted the inside of his own shorts with an explosion of cum that even Steve hadn’t expected.  Steve trembled through the aftershocks, slumping against the window and pressing his forehead to the glass as he came down from the high of the best orgasm he’d had in months.

When his heartbeat slowed and his breath evened out, Steve pushed back away from the window and looked across the way at his partner in self-pleasure.  The brunet was still stretched out on the mat, his body now loose and lax as he stared up at Steve with one hand still in his shorts and the other resting lazily above his head.  He licked his lips, smiled shyly, and appeared to giggle for a moment before giving Steve a little wink and blowing him a kiss.  Steve reached up and made to catch it, smiling back at the stunning man before blowing him a kiss in return.  The guy appeared to be over the moon at Steve’s response as he reached out enthusiastically to catch the kiss Steve had shared.  A moment later, the man sat up, gave Steve one more, adorable wave and then simply got up and walked away.

Steve stood there transfixed until he saw the lights on the other man’s apartment go out.  He sighed heavily as he turned away to take a shower and get ready for bed.  As he stood under the stream of hot water, replaying their mutual peep show in his mind.  It was forbidden and exhilarating and satisfying and fun.  But it wasn’t really something he wanted to do again.  No.  He wanted so much more.  He wanted to meet the gorgeous brunet.  To ask him out on a date and get to know him.  Learn about his passions and pursuits and talk about his work.  Hear the sound of his laughter and the tone of his voice.  Kiss his lips and touch his skin.  He knew it wasn’t all that rational and that his friends would probably think he was crazy.  But he wanted it.  All of it.

As he scrubbed his body and washed the suds away, he decided right then that there was no reason why he couldn’t at least try.  After all, it wasn’t like he didn’t know where the guy lived.  It might be awkward as hell or it might all blow up in his face, but it was a risk that Steve was willing to take.  “Tomorrow,” he said in a promise to himself.  “I’m going to meet him tomorrow.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Would love to know what you think. Thanks!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They meet at last.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay in getting this chapter out. Combination of sick kids and family birthdays got in the way of my writing time. Anyway, this chapter is once again from Steve's POV. Hope you like it!

The closing bell had just rung, signaling the end of trades for the week and unofficially heralding the start of Steve’s weekend.  He scrolled through the latest batch of emails to arrive in his inbox before the firm closed their doors for the day, when there was a knock on his slightly opened door.  Sam nudged it open further as he rapped his knuckles lightly on the hardwood.  He peered in quietly and gave Steve a friendly grin when the blond looked over his computer screen to see who had stopped by for a visit.

“Hey man.  Am I catching you at a bad time?” Sam asked.

“Nah,” Steve replied.  “Come in.  I’m just wrapping a few things up before I head on out.”

“You are still planning to come out with us tonight, right?” Sam stated more than asked as he made his way over to slump down on one of the two over-sized brown leather chairs that faced Steve’s desk.

Steve shook his head and chuckled, “You think I’d miss my chance to finally meet the infamous Natasha?”

“Not on purpose,” Sam replied with a smirk.

“Sorry?” Steve said, looking sincerely confused.

“I know how easily  _distracted_ you get at home these days,” Sam answered barely able to contain the smile on his face.

Steve balled up a piece of paper that was sitting on his desk and threw it at Sam’s head.

“Hmmmmm,” Steve sighed as he leaned back in his chair.  “You do make an excellent point though.  Maybe I should just stay in tonight.  Pour myself a double scotch on the rocks and watch a little…T.V.”

Sam tossed his head back and laughed.  “T.V.  Riiiiiiight.  You do know you can’t actually ‘Netflix and chill’ by yourself right?  Or with an exhibitionist stranger that lives in a different building.”

“I honestly don’t know what that means,” Steve admitted with a shrug.  “Netflix and chill?  Why can’t I just watch Netflix and ‘chill out’ on my couch?”

Sam shook his head, his expression revealing his obvious disappointment.  “I’ll say it again, Rogers.  No.  Game.”

Just then Foggy from Legal knocked on the open door and entered without really waiting for an invitation.

“Hey Steve, Matt asked me to run this up to you before the end of the day.  Stark Industries’ latest acquisition looks air tight.  You’ve got the green light from our team whenever you’re ready to pull the trigger.”

“Thanks, Foggy,” Steve said, accepting the thick file folder from the young attorney.

“Congrats man,” Sam said.  “Now you _have_ to come out tonight and celebrate.  You and Matt gonna be there?” he asked

“I’m in,” Foggy nodded excitedly.  “Not sure about Matt.  Said he’s got business in Hell’s Kitchen or somethin’ he has to take care of.”

“Well, tell ‘him it can wait,” Sam said with a dismissive hand wave towards the folder in Steve’s hands.  “Rogers here is buying the first round.”

Foggy pumped his fist in the air and turned on his heel to leave.  “We’ll see you later then.  Well, _I’ll_ see you later.  Matt will just…ya know…” he trailed off as he departed Steve’s office.

Sam stood up to leave as well.  “Well, on that note, I’m gonna pack up and head out.  Want me to wait for you?”

Steve closed his laptop and stood up to stretch.  “No.  You go on ahead.  I have something I need to take care of first but I promise I’ll be there.  Seven o’clock sharp.”

***

Steve waited a total of ten minutes after Sam had left his office to pack up and beat feet out of the building.  Though he was nervous about going on a wild goose chase in search of Mr. Sex-on-Legs, he was determined to go.  To try and locate the mystery man with whom he’d become so quickly and oddly intimate with.  He wanted to know his name, hear his voice, ask for his phone number.  But as Steve approached the guy’s apartment building his courage began to waiver.

“This is crazy, this is crazy, this is crazy,” he said to himself under his breath as he paced back and forth on the sidewalk just outside of the front door.  Taking a steeling breath, Steve straightened up and stepped into the vestibule.  He stood there for a moment and studied the list of last names and corresponding apartment numbers next to the intercom.  Platt, Williams, Smith, Santino, Ramirez, Barnes, Singh, O’Malley, Rossi, Miller, Crosby...the list went on.  Steve’s shoulders slumped as he realized that looking at the names would do nothing to help him find his man.  Just then the front door opened and one of the apparent residents stepped inside, ducking around Steve to retrieve his mail.  As he closed the lock on his mailbox again, he turned and shot a curious look at Steve.

“Can I help you?” he asked tentatively.

“Um…” Steve hesitated for a moment.  “I’m, um looking for a guy that lives here in the building.  About my height, dark brown, shoulder length hair.  You know ‘im?”

“You a cop?” the guy asked, now looking reasonably suspicious as he took a step away from Steve.  Before Steve could say another word, the guy was already walking away.  “Sorry man, don’t know anyone like that around here,” he called over his shoulder before swiping a security key to open the stairwell door.  He pulled it closed behind him, waiting for the lock to click before making his way up the stairs.

“Shit,” Steve muttered running a hand through his hair.  This really was crazy.  He’d gone from voyeur to stalker in the span of a week.  Maybe he really should start greasing the wheels with Matt and Foggy over a drinks tonight.  Just in case.  He was about to turn and leave when the front door opened again.  This time a stunning redhead strode in, pausing a moment when the door closed behind her to fix her wind-blown hair.  When she looked up to glance at Steve, he was stunned by the realization that he actually recognized her.

“Natasha?” he asked in obvious surprise.

The beautiful woman blinked at him wide-eyed, apparently equally surprised to hear him say her name.

“I’m sorry, do I know you?” she replied guardedly.

“Sorry,” Steve apologized and blushed.  “We haven’t been properly introduced yet but you’re uh…friends with a very good friend of mine.”

Natasha just stood there and blinked again, clearly waiting for an explanation.

“I’m Steve,” Steve said extending his hand.  “Steve Rogers.  I work with Sam Wilson.  He's my best friend.”

Natasha’s posture relaxed immediately and a warm smile lit up her face.

“Well, fancy meeting you here, Steve Rogers!” she said, accepting his proffered handshake.  “It’s nice to put a face with a name that Sam mentions literally every time we talk.”

The already bright pink blush staining Steve’s cheeks turned a darker shade of red.

“All good things I hope.”

“Hardly,” Natasha chuckled.  “You really don't look like the trouble-making type that your buddy makes you out to be.  Then again, isn’t that always the way?”

“Um, do you live here?” Steve asked to try and change the subject.

“No.  Just here to pick up a good friend of mine.  I drag his ass out every now and again just to make sure he doesn’t turn into an actual hermit.”  Natasha looked over Steve’s shoulder at the names by the intercom, apparently looking for a ‘Rogers’ on the list.  “Do you?”

“No,” he answered as the sweat started to form on his brow.  Steve swallowed loudly and looked around the small lobby as though a plausible explanation for his presence there would suddenly appear.  “I actually live in the building next door.”

Natasha narrowed her eyes for a moment as she studied his fidgeting form.  It was unusually unnerving and Steve suddenly found himself blurting out words without provocation.  “I was just here, um, looking for someone but it’s getting late and I promised Sam I wouldn’t be so I should probably just—”

“Oh my God,” Natasha interrupted as she leveled an incredulous, wicked grin at Steve.  “Dat Ass,” she chuckled under her breath before tossing her head back as she full-on cackled.

“Excuse me?” Steve asked now thoroughly confused and regretting the impulsive decision that’d lead him to this entirely awkward situation.

The redhead gathered her wits about her and quickly schooled her features back to the warm smile she’d been wearing a moment before.  “Sorry,” she said without really looking contrite at all or offering any further explanation.  “Look, we’re both headed to the same place at the same time to meet up with Sam so why don’t we just grab a car together?  I’ll just buzz my friend down and then we can go.”

Steve glanced at his watch and nodded.  “Yeah, why not?  Sam’ll sure be surprised to see us walking in together,” he added with a smile.

"Boy will he ever be!" she agreed.

Steve watched intently as Natasha walked over to the intercom and pressed the button belonging to unit ‘45: Barnes’.  At least maybe he’d be able to cross one name off the list of potential suspects now.

“Hello?” a rugged voice sounded through the crackling speaker.

“Hey, it’s me,” Nat said.  “You ready to go?  Our Lyft will be here in two.”

“Yeah,” the man said.  “Just gotta grab my coat.  And some condoms.  Ya know, in case _one_ of us gets lucky tonight.”

Steve coughed a laugh into his sleeve to try and cover his amusement.  He liked Natasha’s friend already.

“Always best to be prepared,” Natasha replied with a smirk.  “Now get ‘dat ass’ down here on the double.”

“I wish!” the guy said excitedly.  “Okay, I’m coming down now.”

Natasha turned back to Steve.  “That’d be my best friend Bucky.  He’s a bit like an energetic puppy.  Bouncing all over the place one minute, cuddled up in your lap in the next.”

“Well, who doesn’t like puppies?” Steve asked good-naturedly.

“I can tell you one thing for sure,” she said as she looked out the front door for their ride, smirk still firmly in place, “he’s _definitely_ going to like you.”

A moment later, the sound of pounding footfalls echoed in the stairwell, grabbing their attention.  The door burst open and out walked Mr. Sex-on-Legs.

“Holy shit,” Steve said, frozen in place by his obvious shock.

The gorgeous guy stopped dead in his tracks the moment he laid eyes on Steve.  “Dat Ass?” Bucky asked weakly before shifting his gaze to Natasha.  The redhead was standing there with a giddy grin glued on her face and her phone poised in such a way there was no doubt as to what she was doing—recording their unexpected meet-cute for her own amusement or posterity.  Maybe both.

“Steve, I’d like to introduce you to Bucky Barnes.  Bucky’s an elementary music teacher, a history buff and my best friend.  Bucky, this is Steve Rogers.  Steve’s an investment banker, Sam Wilson’s best friend, and he lives in the building right next door to yours.  But you knew that last part already, didn’t you?”

Despite his utter shock, Steve managed to reach a hand out in greeting to the man who he’d mutually masturbated with just one night before.  “Uh, h-hi,” he stuttered as he took a tentative step forward.  “It’s nice to me—”  The rest of Steve’s words were punched out of his lungs as Bucky lunged forward and wrapped his arms around the blond in a tight bear hug.  Bucky buried his nose in Steve’s neck and giggled happily.

“You found me,” Bucky sighed dreamily.

“Yeah,” Steve replied, returning the embrace.  “I kinda had to.”

Bucky clung to him like a koala bear on a eucalyptus tree.  “It’s nice to meet you too, Steve.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Probably only a chapter or two more in this story that I originally imagined as a one shot. Please leave a comment if you're so inclined. They bring me so much joy!

**Author's Note:**

> Come hit me up on Tumblr if you'd like to discuss this story or anything else Stucky related! I'm 70SecretKinks there too.


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